It was Christmas eve and John stood in the middle of the shopping mall, looking around to every shop that lined the walls. What in the Queen's name was he going to get Sherlock for Christmas? It was hard enough living with his new lover, let alone buying something for him. What would Sherlock like? John wracked his brain for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he finally found a spot to sit down on a bench in an open area. He'd been walking for hours now and was still no where closer to figuring out what he should get Sherlock for Christmas. John sighed, rubbing his left shoulder. The cold London weather hadn't been that great on his wound and it'd been bothering him for almost a week straight now. Sherlock had asked about it but John had shrugged it off, quite literally, pretending to be alright. John looked around himself again, seeing all the people who were rushing about trying to get last minute Christmas presents, much like himself.

"Bloody brilliant… what do you possibly get the smartest man in London for a Christmas present?" John asked himself.

"You could just get him something that's akin to his interests… since you do know his the best of all." John nearly jumped from his seat before turning around. Standing there, holding a bag of pastries and a coffee was Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"By George Lestrade! Give a man a heart attack why don't you?" Lestrade smirked and took the empty seat next to John.

"You and Sherlock have been living together for, what was it, some 6 months or so now?" John nodded. "Well you know what he's like out side of work, right?" John scoffed at this.

"He doesn't do anything but work, you've known him for almost 6 years, you should know that at least by now." John continued to absent mindedly rub at his shoulder as he slouched into his seat. Lestrade looked at John for a few moments, then, taking a sip of his coffee, before saying.

"If I were you, I'd just screw him." John, had he had a drink, would have preformed quite a hilarious spit take at the nonchalant way the Detective Inspector said this last sentence. He did, however, pitch forward and nearly fall off of the bench.

"Wh-what!" Lestrade hid a smirk behind his Styrofoam cup.

"You heard me Doctor… listen. Just because I'm not as clever as he is doesn't mean I can't observe just as well sometimes. He's good at the stuff I'm not but I am a police officer, remember? Yeah well I earned the job and know what to look for. He's always distracted at crime scenes since about 3 months ago. Guessing that's when you two got together? He also seems to stay half a step closer to you than he did before. It's obvious by the fact that you two are flat mates that you get along, I'm just glad he found someone to love him." Lestrade smiled now and John stared at him in blind shock. Sherlock and John hadn't told anyone about their relationship yet. The only person who knew was Mycroft and that was only because… well… it was Mycroft.

"Figured that all out did you?" John asked, leaning back in his seat after heaving a great sigh.

"Yeah…" Lestrade shrugged. "But back to your problem at hand. You know him, know him well… just give him something he'd like. You should know what that is by now." John sighed again, leaning forward, his elbows resting over his knees and he hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I just… don't know what he would want… it's not like I can just get him some new books or something. There's nothing he'd read, nothing he needs really." Lestrade gave a small, soft smile to John before standing.

"Well I was just passing through, getting my coffee and lunch. Best of luck with the present problem Doctor…" Lestrade started walking away, towards the exit of the mall. Just before he was out of ear shot, Lestrade called back. "I'd still go with what I said first though!" and before John could even look up, Lestrade was gone. John looked for him but sighed, knowing the Detective Inspector was gone and he wouldn't see him again. John sat and thought about what Lestrade had said. Screw him? John knew it would have to be pretty damn special if that was going to be all he gave Sherlock for Christmas, seeing as the deprived Consulting Detective had craved their sexual intercourse and there for become obsessed with it. John stopped, bolting upright and to his feet suddenly. He knew! He knew EXACTLY what to get Sherlock for Christmas… but it would take some preparation.

John was just getting home after more hours on the town, a box with plain green wrapping and a red ribbon and bow around it. Sherlock was sure to be surprised when he got it. Speaking on his lover and flat mate…

"Sherlock?" he asked out loud, taking his coat off and hanging it on the hook before ascending the stairs to their actual flat. He found the tall brunet sitting crouched in the arm chair, legs tucked up underneath of him and hands pressed together, long white fingers tucked gently under his nose.

"Can I borrow your phone?" He asked, without even looking at John. John blinked but sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Don't want your number recognized?" he asked as he placed his iPhone in the other man's waiting hand.

"No, it's in the other room." Sherlock started texting, thumbs flying across the screen. John sighed and headed up towards his room. He took the present with him. No need for Sherlock to do something stupid to it… like shake it and figure out what was inside… or accidentally make it explode.

Trotting back down the stairs, John set to make himself some tea and grab a snack.

"So," Sherlock asked from the living room. "What was that?" John hummed in a questioning manner instead of answering, going and getting the kettle off of the stove as it started to whistle, saying his tea was ready. John kept ignoring Sherlock as the questions came from the other room. John sat in his recliner, very comfortable with his cup of tea and some biscuits. Sherlock stared at his flat mate for a long moment before sighing and putting John's phone down.

"Did you get me something?" John asked before biting into his snack. Sherlock looked back over to the blond, not quite sure if he had imagined the question or not.

"For what?" Sherlock asked. John stopped mid bite, blinking rather comically and looking over at the brunette.

"It's Christmas in about," casting a glance at the clock on the mantel told John it was already 5 in the afternoon "7 hours. I want to know if you got me anything. Don't want to know what it is, just want to know if you did." John gave a shrug and finished his snack, sipping on his tea. Sherlock blinked for a moment. Tomorrow was Christmas? Why had he not gotten a message from Mycroft? He usually got SOMETHING from his older brother around December to remind him of the holiday. Maybe Mycroft had thought that, since he now had a boyfriend, that he didn't have to remind his baby brother anymore. John obviously hadn't reminded him though and so Sherlock sat and thought for a moment. Did he have anything in which he could give to John for a present? Before he'd realized it, Sherlock had gotten up and started searching the flat. John sighed, assuming it meant that Sherlock hadn't gotten him anything. He didn't mind… he would be happy to just give Sherlock his present.

Sherlock searched the entire flat, looking high and low. Finally he made it to his room. He never really used it anymore, but it was his. He usually ended up sleeping in John's room with him, but Sherlock used his room to keep clothing and objects that he'd rather not have out on display in the other rooms. Then he saw it. Sitting on his bureau. John might take it as the wrong thing but to Sherlock… it was the only thing he could think of that he truly wanted John to have for Christmas… and for the rest of their lives.

They both went to bed, John insisting on them each spending it in their own rooms for once. When they both awoke in the morning and came to the living room, they greeted each other with a kiss and a 'happy Christmas'. They had a quiet breakfast before heading out to sit in front of the hearth.

"Would you like me to go first?" Sherlock asked after a tense moment of silence. John blinked, looking up. He'd thought Sherlock hadn't gotten him anything.

"Sure… let me go get yours, and you go get mine." John jumped up from his seat and practically ran up the 17 stairs to his room to grab the box. Sherlock was going to love it! He came back down the stairs, acting as if he hadn't been rushing for being so excited, holding the gift wrapped behind his back with a small nervous smile on his face. Sherlock stood facing away from him so he couldn't see what he was holding. When Sherlock turned around to show John his present, John nearly dropped his own gift at the shock. There, in Sherlock's hands was a jar… filled with distilled water… and a human heart. John seemed to pale a bit and looked at Sherlock's face to try and figure out what this could possibly mean.

"I… uhm well…" Sherlock was… stumbling over his words. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and he was staring down at the jar in his hands. "I want this to… well to mean to you… like it's mine. That is to say not that it actually is but… well what I'm trying to convey here is that…" Sherlock had the most awkward look on his face, feeling uncomfortable. He'd never been good with his emotions, feeling it easier to just ignore them rather than deal with them… but John was worth it. Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly looking back up to John. "I want to give you my heart John… for yours to keep or to give away, to break or heal, to do with as you please. I… I love you and I just… well here." and he held the jar out to John. At hearing his lover say this John nearly teared up. He took the jar and put it down on the table before holding his own box out for Sherlock to take.

"Happy Christmas Sherlock…" Sherlock looked down at the box and shook it. The didn't seem to be anything inside. He tore the paper off and looked inside. Sitting at the bottom of the box was a piece of paper that read a note in John neat handwriting. It went as follows:

Sherlock,

To find your real Christmas gift, you'll have to go on a little scavenger hunt. There are some rules though. You are not allowed any help from anyone [not that you'd ask for it] but that means no cab's either and no using your phone. You'll have to do this all on your own and by foot. I'd suggest dressing warm since you'll be outside for a bit.

Trust me love, when you reach the end of this scavenger hung, you'll be happier for the trouble it's put you through.

With Love from yours and yours alone,

John

Sherlock looked over the letter again, at the bottom was a small crudely drawn map and an X marked in red. John smiled as Sherlock looked up at him.

"Go on… go find it. You like puzzles dear, so this is the best way I thought I could entertain you." Sherlock smiled softly, then kissed John on the lips lightly before grabbing his scarf and gloves. The game was afoot!

Three hours later, Sherlock had trudged almost the whole way around London in the snow, always finding another clue with a map and an address and an X in red. John had certainly gone to a LOT of trouble to set this all up. Sherlock was getting tired and cold outside so when he was directed to stop at the park and he picked up this envelope and read the map, it told him to go back to Baker Street. He blinked in surprise. Could John be pulling his leg? His present was back at their flat the whole time?

With a new found speed that he thought he had lost, Sherlock ran back towards their flat through the snow. When he finally made it back there was a new note taped to the door. It read this:

Congratulations dear, you've made it!

There is a set of warm clothes for you on the sofa and a cup of tea. Have that and then come up to my room. Do this first or you won't get your present.

Love,

John

Sherlock sighed and did as was instructed, slipping off his cold and slightly damp clothes. He changed once in the flat into the warm clothing John had left out for him and drank the still warm cup of tea. He took the stairs up to the bedroom and knocked lightly.

"John?" Sherlock seemed hesitant.

"Come in." he heard through the door. When he opened it, it was not what he was expecting to see. John was lounged back on the bed with his hands cuffed above his head to the bed posts and wearing nothing but a bright red bow around his waist to cover his midsection. Sherlock groaned… this had NOT been what he had been expecting from John…

The two lay together hours later wrapped in sheets with ribbon and a the pair of hand cuffs laying on the bed side table. John was curled around Sherlock's side, a content smile plastered on his flushed face.

"Did you like your Christmas present love?" John asked tiredly. They'd been in the bedroom since about noon… it was 5 Christmas evening. Sherlock hummed.

"Positively. I love you John." John smiled, eyes closing with exhaustion and planting a soft kiss against Sherlock's shoulder, the closest piece of skin he could reach.

"Love you too Sherlock." And together, the two lovers fell asleep.

THE END! :D